


All Hail the Allspeak (or How Tony Got His Slavic Groove Back) sub-subtitled: Da! We Have No Bananas!

by meh_guh



Series: Tony the Polyglot and his Sneaky Sniper Boyfriend [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M, communication issues, kinkmeme fill, now with extra bonus fluff, wee bit o' angst, with bonus sextra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony mysteriously no longer understands English, Clint gets weirdly intense and Steve can't help but wonder if being team leader <i>always<i> feels like herding recalcitrant cats.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alleywayqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=alleywayqueen).



> Based on a prompt here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6021.html?thread=9078661#t9078661
> 
> Rating is.purely for the sextra (chapter 2), original story remains "Teen". Thank you anon for pointing out my cock-up and apologies to anyone offended

Tony says something, tone bright and cheerful. It sounds like Russian to Steve, so he turns expectantly to Natasha.

She's frowning, furious concentration on her face, staring intently at Tony's lips. Tony grins at her, babbles something that, from his expression, is some sort of proposition, and cocks his head.

'I...' Natasha shakes her head, hard. 'I'm sorry. It's almost... but I don't _know_!'

'So, not Russian,' Steve sighs, looking over to see Tony ripping the insides from the microwave, having apparently lost interest after their lack of response.

'Or Ukrainian, Polish, or Serbo-Croatian! Dammit, what the hell is going on?' Natasha shouts, more emotion on her face than Steve's ever seen there before. He's kind of impressed.

'It's Macedonian,' Clint appears in the doorway, eyebrows raised. 'His mother was a refugee; raised him without much input from Howard until it was clear the boy was a genius, then it was tutors and special instruction the whole way to college,' he grins at their shock. 'Coulson was great at backgrounding. From his interviews you'd never know English was a second language. All credit to the guy, since he can't understand me at the moment.'

Tony glances over, says something to Clint, and goes back to mucking around with the microwave when Clint just looks blank.

'Sooo...' Clint spreads his hands. 'How exactly did this happen? You guys were just going for pizza, right?'

Steve sighs and closes his eyes. 'Yes. And I don't know who or what did this. He just... stopped understanding English.'

It's horrible, in a sort-of-harmless way. At least Tony doesn't seem bothered by their lack of understanding; but then, he's always been unfazed by others' lack of comprehension when he 'sciences-out', as Steve heard Darcy call it last week after the thing with the Doombots.

'Maybe it'll wear off?' he says, not able to believe it. Their lives aren't that kind.

Natasha glares at him, then stomps over to an access panel embedded in the wall. 'Jarvis,' she barks, then louder when there's no response. 'Jarvis!'

The light in the panel goes from blue to red, then there's a pop, smoke, and all the artificial lights snap off.

'Oh, great,' Clint says. 'So much for accidental amnesia.'

Tony yells something bitter sounding, then something that sounds like a curse.

'Yeah, buddy,' Steve says, hoping his tone and voice will help, if not the content. 'We're working on it.'

****

Tony-minus-English-comprehension gets along with Hulk best, and Steve isn't sure whether or not he's surprised by that fact.

He was definitely disturbed the first time he walked in on them playing 'smash the potted plants' in the hallway. Hulk turned a surprisingly sweet smile on Tony when he yelled a war cry (or at least, Steve assumed it was a war cry. As far as he knew, it could have been a very loud request for sandwiches or something) and executed a sloppy roundhouse on a begonia. Steve just stared for a moment, then turned and walked away.

The various Avengers have wildly differing attitudes to the... situation, Steve decides is the best description. Hawkeye takes it as an opportunity to give Tony all the praise he deserves for the brilliant improvements he's wrought on Hawkeye's bow and arrows and the generous use of his house, but that Hawkeye refuses to give him normally. Steve supposes he can understand that; Regular Tony vacillates between intense focus and cartoonish arrogance, and compliments have a distressing tendency to be broadcast at the rest of the team at high volume. Repeatedly.

Natasha seems to be taking Tony's 'choice' of language personally, and has vanished into the bowels of SHIELD. According to Hill's report, she's sequestered in an unused brig with a copy of 'Macedonian for Dummies' and a stack of pirated Macedonian soap operas.

Banner has chosen to let the Hulk take the lead, since Tony's still-incessant babble is apparently even more annoying to him when he can't parse the content. 'He's going to come out anyway,' he'd said wearily when Steve questioned him. 'At least this way we don't have to keep replacing walls.'

Thor's in some tiny town down in New Mexico, and since he accidentally crushed the first twelve cell phones he'd been given, and used the thirteenth as a poor substitute for Mjolnir after one of the frog-slug-whatever-disgusting-thing-they'd-been the week before last had swallowed the _actual_ hammer during the fight...

Well, since Thor had been declared 'A menace, seriously, that last one was tougher than a goddamn nokia from '97, Jesus Thor, how did you even DO that?!' by Tony, he wasn't allowed a cell phone of his own, and he hadn't thought to give anyone his girlfriend's number. So Thor was on holiday and unreachable.

Steve sighs. Tony had been making noises about designing a special communication device for Avengers emergencies. Something with enough range to cope if a satellite or two were knocked out of orbit, 900-bit encrypted, though Steve wasn't sure about that number. Or what a bit of encryption was supposed to do. Surely Avengers warranted at _least_ Enigma-level security?

Anyway, they would have been really useful right about now, but there was no use daydreaming about advancements that hadn't happened yet. Thor was due back in five days. Maybe he'd know how to reverse whatever this was, if it had been Loki. They'd manage until then, Steve tells himself.

Tony seems content with the situation, at least. When he's not in the hallways playing smashing games with Hulk, he's either in the entertainment room (again, with Hulk) watching brightly-coloured cartoons, the two of them sitting cross-legged about two feet in front of the gigantic screen, or he's in his lab, staring at Dummy and Butterfingers with a fierce This Is A Problem And It Will Fall Before My Mighty Genius expression, while the robots make mournful peeps at him and creep towards him at a glacial pace.

When he watches Tony, unable to interact with his closest friends; with Jarvis still silent and (God, he hopes just locked up in the computer parts he lives in; he doesn't know what they'll do if Jarvis is _dead_ ) unavailable. When Steve sees that, he gets an appalling rush of guilt. He was _with_ Tony the whole time, and he'd only been half-listening. He doesn't even know how long it was before he noticed the babble wasn't in English any more. Certainly it was too long to have any hope of finding the culprit.

****

Steve wakes up the next morning to find Tony staring down at him, eyes widening comically and hastily shoving something in his pocket. He grins, says something very quickly; even more quickly than his usual delivery, and bolts from the room, cackling far too loudly for 0500.

Steve closes his eyes again, wondering if he can get to sleep again, but there's a pervasive smell somewhere. He thinks it might have been the smell that woke him.

Steve gets reluctantly out of bed, trying to find the source of the smell, but it seems equally as strong everywhere in his room. When he moves into the hallway, concerned that there's been some sort of chemical attack since the smell is out here, too, he runs into Clint.

'Cap!' Clint says, out of breath and sweaty, clearly just back from a run. 'Huh,' he blinks, squints at Steve's face, then bursts out laughing even louder than Tony had.

'What?' Steve demands. Maybe the smell signals some sort of intoxicant? He's just about to drag Clint towards the decontamination showers, when Clint wipes a tear from his eye and gestures at Steve's face.

'Tell me Tony did that,' he begs. 'Tell me he's actually regressed to fucking elementary school pranks, and I swear I'll count it as my Christmas present!'

Steve frowns at him again, and Clint grabs him by the elbow, dragging him to a mirror a few feet away. Steve glances at his own reflection, and has to do a double take. He leans in, rubbing a finger on the Dastardly Doug style moustache adorning his top lip, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

'Tell me this stuff comes off,' he says hopelessly. From the redoubling of Clint's hysterics, it seems unlikely. 'OK. So it's not just a case of losing the ability to comprehend English.'

Clint extends a finger towards Steve's face, and Steve slaps him away. He hadn't realised taking command of the Avengers Initiative would be analogous to signing up to be principal of a preschool, but apparently assassins, geniuses and gods stopped maturing at about seven years of age. He has to knock Clint's hands away three more times before he gives up.

'Bruce said he thought it might be more generalised amnesia,' Clint says when he's gotten bored of Steve's increasingly-firm blocks. 'He hasn't built himself a universal translator yet, or fixed Jarvis, or even started studying ESL, which would be the first three things I'd've expected him to do. He hasn't even made anything explode-'

As if on cue, the doors blow off the kitchen, landing against the wall with a dull thud, and releasing a greenish-brown cloud of sweet-smelling smoke into the hall. Tony staggers out, wobbling like a drunken sailor and waving a hand in front of his face. When he sees Clint and Steve, he grins, putting both thumbs up and shouts something triumphant-sounding before wandering towards the entertainment room.

'Cleaning crew's coming today, right?' Clint asks, not moving any closer to the devastation. He sniffs the air. 'Mmm... smells like caramel popcorn and twinkies.'

Steve bangs his head against the wall.

****

Later that day, after the cleaning crew has come and gone, leaving with a sizable cash bonus as a sort of bribe to keep them from quitting, there's the sound of a door slamming, and the clickclickclick of someone in high heels stomping down the hall. Steve looks up from his newspaper to see a tall, beautiful woman standing in the doorway, glaring at the back of Tony's head.

'Tony!' she snaps. 'Now you're getting Jarvis not to answer at all? You've missed a board meeting, three investors' meetings, and your monthly inspection of the R&D labs! That's normally the only thing I _DON'T_ have to drag you to!'

Tony turns at the sound of his name to blink at the woman. He glances at Steve and Hulk, then says something. When she just blinks at him, he repeats himself, more slowly, words not blurring together for once.

She stares at him, and he sighs, turning back to the television, muttering to himself in the endless stream of unintelligible sounds Steve is really growing to dislike.

'Miss?' he stands, dropping the paper on the table and walking over to her. 'My name is Captain Rogers.'

'Pepper Potts,' she says on what seems to be social interaction autopilot, extending a beautifully-manicured hand. 'What is going on?'

Steve straightens his shoulders. Tony had told him about Pepper Potts in great and admiring detail; from what Tony had said, Steve had been reminded of Peggy. 'We're not sure Miss Potts. All we do know is Tony has for some reason lost the ability to speak or understand the English language. Apparently Macedonian was his first language.'

She looks at Steve properly then, a line appearing between her eyebrows. 'Is there some reason you have a Snidely Whiplash moustache?'

Steve feels his face heat. 'It seems Tony may also have reverted to an undetermined age in childhood. He drew it on me this morning and I can't seem to wash it off.'

Pepper Potts digs in her handbag, and holds out a small bottle of some sort of cream. 'Here, this ought to do the trick. And I wouldn't take that prank as evidence of him regressing to childhood; he did the same thing to Justin Hammer right before his interview with _Time_ about five years ago.'

'Oh,' Steve takes the bottle. 'Thank you, Miss Potts. Jarvis seems to be broken, too. It happened right after we got back, and Tony hasn't even tried to fix him.'

'Hmm,' Pepper Potts moves over to one of the formerly-blue panels, and taps at it. The light stays off, and she scowls, whirling around with her hands on her hips. 'I realise you people are superheroes, with varied responsibilities, but I want to know why no one told me when this happened. I'm CEO of Stark Industries, not to mention Tony's girlfriend.'

'I'm very sorry,' Steve looks down at his shoes. Miss Potts reminds him of his first-grade teacher, if Miss Jenkins had been elegant and beautiful as well as terrifying. 'We didn't realise no one had told you.'

'Well,' Pepper Potts huffs out a breath, glancing around the room. 'I would have thought Natasha would remember me, at the very least.'

'Natasha is on the helicarrier,' Steve says hesitantly. He's not sure exactly what to say to her; she's too beautiful and self-assured, but not a soldier like Natasha is. 'I think she's giving herself a crash course in Macedonian?'

The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she digs out a shiny black cell phone, pressing one button, then putting it to her ear.

Steve doesn't think he'll ever get used to the magical things people take for granted these days. Oh, sure, the Iron Man armour is marvellous and Tony is an indisputable genius, but cell phones that can tell you exactly where you are and machines smaller than a pack of cigarettes that can hold 20,000 songs and colour television are for _everyone_. And they all think of these marvels as everyday and _dull_. It boggles his mind.

Pepper's face goes from expectant to annoyed to irate before settling on determined as she stabs another button on her phone, dropping it back in her bag.

'Right,' she says, giving Steve a once-over. 'I have a lot of business to attend to, and since Natasha has turned her phone off and Fury doesn't seem to want to answer _his_ , I am relying on _you_ to keep me informed of any developments.'

Steve has the urge to come to attention and salute. 'Yes, ma'am.'

Pepper pauses, looking like she's fighting a grin. 'I'll be over again tomorrow; it would have been tonight, but I have an entire aviary’s worth of ruffled feathers to soothe if Tony's going to be... indisposed for the foreseeable future.'

'I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you again,' Steve says, as Tony and Hulk laugh at something on the screen. Frankly, it just looks like colourful noise to Steve.

Pepper does laugh, then, and pats him on the arm. 'You're sweet. I'll see if I can find an interpreter with security clearance. Here's my number; call any time. I mean it.'

She hands him a card, looking expectant until Steve nods, promising to keep her informed.

'All right,' Pepper straightens her sleeves, glares at Tony one more time, and vanished back the way she came.

Steve looks at the card in his hand, then the bottle of cream, and goes to wash his face again.

****

Steve goes for his run after he's managed to get the moustache off his face, looping Central Park three times, before heading back to the Tower. He heads straight to his room to get cleaned up, and when he comes out to the communal areas, Hulk and Clint have vanished, leaving Tony sitting at the kitchen bench with a pile of Thor's pop tarts and a glass of milk.

Steve goes to the fridge, getting his own glass of milk, and watched Tony build structures with the pastries. It's like a sticky house of cards, and Steve wonders briefly whether Thor will be angry at the waste of his favourite Midgardian snack.

Probably not, he decides. Thor is endlessly generous, and there are always more pop tarts available from the store.

Tony squints at his pastry-house, nods once, and apparently loses interest. When he turns to Steve, opening his mouth and letting the stream of Macedonian out, for the first time since this started his tone is angry. He keeps talking, volume rising steadily until he's shouting at Steve.

'I'm sorry,' Steve says, spreading his hands. 'I don't know what to do. I can't understand you!'

Tony breaks off, panting for breath, and stares for a moment. 

The elevator dings open, and Clint calls out something in what sounds like Macedonian to Steve's untrained ear. Tony brightens immediately, taking four steps towards the door only to stop when Clint appears, laden down with a pile of books.

'What was that?' Steve asks, taking the pile out of Clint's arms and putting it down on the bench next to the pop tart sculpture.

Tony elbows Steve aside, babbling away again, this time to Clint. Clint puts his hands on Tony's shoulders and says one word, glancing at Steve and translating 'Slowly.'

Tony looks a little embarrassed, but he takes a deep breath and says something. Clint's mouth twists wryly.

'I knew that'd be the most important thing to be able to say, but three chapters of Lonely Planet's Macedonian phrase book ain't gonna be a long-term solution,' He looks at Tony, corner of his mouth quirked, and says something that is obviously an apology.

Steve sighs. 'Can you ask if he has any idea who did this?'

'Hang on,' Clint lets go of Tony with one hand, but surprisingly leaves the other in place as he reaches out for the third book in the pile. Steve passes it to him. 'Thanks. Now, let's see...'

Tony is leaning in, eyes scanning the book upside-down, and he yelps suddenly, grabbing it from Clint and flicking furiously through the pages.

'Whoa!' Clint's hand squeezes, sliding to the back of Tony's neck and encouraging him to look up. 'Easy there. You OK?'

His tone must translate, because Tony scoffs, and holds out the book, jabbing a finger at two somethings on the page. Clint looks down.

'I would like to order a pizza,' Clint reads, before slapping his hand over his face. 'Pepperoni. Jesus. OK.'

He tugs the book out of Tony's hands, finds what he's looking for and carefully enunciates as he reads. Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs, flicking back to the pizza thing and pointing again.

'Of course it wasn't that easy,' Clint groans. 'He doesn't remember anything useful, or he can't say, Cap. You down for pizza too?'

'At least we can talk a little,' Steve says, trying to quash the renewed worry. 'It was a good plan, Hawkeye.'

Clint blows out a gusty sigh and slings an arm around Tony's shoulders. 'Pepperoni pizza comin' right up.'

****

'Eat it, bitch!' Clint yells, punching the air and bouncing in a dance.

Tony smirks, letting his fingers twitch over the controller in his hands, then says something that Steve has a terrible feeling would be unforgivable if anyone understood him, and one of the cartoon things on the TV explodes.

Clint's arms drop, along with his face, and Tony laughs, shouting something triumphant-sounding over his shoulder at Steve.

'How did you...' Clint blinks at the screen, his own controller, and Tony. He looks back at the screen and says respectfully 'Damn.'

Tony does something, and the TV goes back to the starting screen. Steve watches Clint slanting glances across at Tony, expression something Steve's not sure he can classify.

'Laugh it up, pretty boy,' Clint mutters, perching himself on the back of the sofa and staring intently at the screen. 'I'll be handing your ass to you in a moment.'

Feeling bizarrely like he's intruding suddenly, Steve gets up and heads to the gym.

****

It's the sound of Thor's belly-laugh waking him the next morning, and Steve only pauses to throw a t shirt on before racing out of his room and into the kitchen. He's about to launch into an explanation for Thor, when Clint's hand slams over his mouth.

'Shut up and watch,' Clint whispers, swinging silently down from a ledge above the door. Steve glances up, and from the vent's just-off angle he deduces that Clint spent at least part of the night in the air vents again.

'Yes, Friend Tony!' Thor booms, holding out a mug. 'I would greatly appreciate another! The coffee available in my dear Jane's diner of choice is far inferior to your preparation.'

Tony looks startled for a moment, before a pleased smile spreads across his face. He pours the coffee, and just as Steve has got his hopes up that Thor knew the magic and broke it, he opens his mouth and the same incomprehensible stream of words emerges.

Steve feels his shoulders slump, but Clint pokes him, nodding toward Thor.

'We are Shield Brothers!' Thor declares, swinging his mug in a wide arc that liberally distributes coffee across the floor and the bench, and much to Tony's evident irritation, Tony's chest. 'My sincerest apologies! But tell me, wherefore didst thou lose thy memories? Was there a battle while I was off a-wooing?'

Tony squints at him, pulling a face that makes Thor boom with laughter again, and mutters something.

'I do not know,' Thor says, quietly for him, frowning. 'Perhaps the Good Captain knows. Captain!'

Steve jumps a little, ignoring Clint's smirk, and steps forward. 'Hello, Thor. Welcome home.'

'Thank you! Have you the answer for Tony's question?' Thor cocks his head, reminding Steve of nothing so much as a golden retriever.

'Uh,' Steve glances at Tony's expectant face, and back at Clint's raised eyebrows. 'What did he ask?'

'But,' Thor scowls at him. 'You were standing in the portal, near enough to hear yourself. For what reason are you treating a team mate this way? Tell me why you are behaving thus.'

Steve narrows his eyes. 'Do you understand Tony when he speaks?'

'Of course,' Thor slings a massive arm around Tony, hauling him briefly off the floor. 'Though I do not understand why his memories appear altered. What has happened in my absence?'

'Tony's forgotten how to speak English,' Clint says from the doorway, gaze locked on Tony. 'We don't know how or why, but none of us speak Macedonian, so it's been fun.'

Thor blinks at Clint. 'Do not all Midgardians speak the same tongue, then?'

Steve chokes on a laugh. 'Not so much. How come you can understand him?'

'More importantly,' Clint says, pushing off the wall and stalking over to stand by Tony. 'Why does _he_ understand _you_?'

Thor shrugs. 'The Aesir speak the Allspeak. I did not realise you knew not.'

Steve sometimes thinks his life is being scripted by someone with a terrible sense of humour. Right now, as he tries not to look at Clint, or at Thor's beatific expression, it's almost overwhelmingly ridiculous.

'Right,' he says. 'I think I need some coffee.'

****

What Thor manages to find out in about five minutes of conversation is that Tony seems to think he's four, and has been assuming that Steve, Clint and Hulk were his father's friends or maybe employees, left as Tony thinks is usual with what Clint describes as 'casual disregard for the kid's needs.'

Steve's not sure what to think about it; he was friendly with Howard, but he wouldn't exactly say he _knew_ the man, but it seems hard on him to attack him for his parenting choices when he can't defend himself. And Tony seems fine with the idea that Howard forgot to make sure his babysitters spoke his language.

'Wait,' he puts a hand between Tony's face and the coffee cup. 'If he's four years old, shouldn't he be drinking milk?'

Clint rolls his eyes. 'The man's physically forty-five, Rogers. And Tony's system's pretty dependant on caffeine. Trust me when I say that Stark in full-on caffeine withdrawal is not something you should be playing chicken with.'

He lays a hand on Tony's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. Tony grins at him, and says something to Thor.

'His name is Clint,' Thor replies. 'With the Eyes of a Hawk.'

'Clint,' Tony repeats, and the strange burr in the familiar voice is even more disconcerting when Steve can understand what he's saying. He repeats Clint's name, and then goes on a long, enthusiastic rant, dropping his coffee cup on the table and tugging at Clint's arm.

'Our Man of Iron wishes to challenge you to virtual combat,' Thor throws his arms around Tony and Clint, picking them up in a bear hug. 'He says now that he's learnt the weapons, he will defeat you with even greater ease.'

'Oh, it's _on_!' Clint twists, dropping out of the embrace, and runs out of the room, calling 'Your ass is grass, Tony!'

Tony giggles and turns his face towards Thor's, asking something.

'Of course, Friend Tony,' Thor shifts his grip, swinging Tony up to carry him like he's flying. Tony shrieks and sticks his arms out like Superman, and they head for the entertainment centre, Thor swooping Tony up and down every few steps.

****

Natasha appears in the doorway of the entertainment room at eight o'clock that night, saying something in a triumphant tone of voice.

Tony tips his head back over the edge of the couch, grinning at her and babbling a response.

'Welcome back, Fair Widow!' Thor booms from behind a stack of pop tarts that has been steadily shrinking over the last half hour. 'Tony has been explaining what he remembers, though I fear it is not much.'

Natasha blinks slowly, sharing an unreadable glance with Clint, who shuffles a few inches away from Tony when she raises an immaculately-plucked eyebrow.

'I take it the Allspeak is to thank?' she turns to Steve. 'That's vexing, though the soap operas were surprisingly engaging.'

'We did try to let you know,' Steve gets up to offer her his seat, but she waves him away, perching on the arm of the couch beside Tony and resting a hand on his hair.

'I'm sure there will be some use for Macedonian at some point,' Natasha shrugs. 'Has he remembered who did it?'

Thor shakes his head mournfully. 'Nay, but I believe it to be the work of an Aesir. If not my brother, then one of his compatriots. I have asked Heimdall to arrange a meeting with my mother at her earliest convenience.'

'Your mother?' Natasha cocks her head, rubbing her fingers into Tony's scalp in a way that makes Tony hum and Clint narrow his eyes. Steve really doesn't want to know.

'Frigga is the most learned of the Aesir in the Women's Ways,' Thor grins with family pride. 'If this is indeed Asgardian magic, she will be able to reverse it.'

'Well,' Pepper's voice chimes from the doorway, apparently startling no one except for Steve. Sometimes Steve hates that he works with super spies and gods. 'That is good news at last. Does this mean that Tony will be back to his standard level of immaturity soon?'

Steve steps forward, feeling huge and ungainly next to Pepper's willowy form. 'Er, we hope so, Miss Potts. This is Thor; it turns out he can understand Tony, so you needn't keep looking for an interpreter-'

'That's good to know,' Pepper shoots him a sardonic glance, resting a hand on Steve's elbow when he feels his face heat. 'I hadn't had much of a chance to look, so no efforts wasted on my part. How is he?'

Thor bounds to his feet, abandoning the last three pop tarts to bow to Pepper. 'Fair Lady,' he cries. 'Our Man of Iron is in good spirits, though he believes himself to be of a much younger age. Is there a message you wish to convey to him?'

Pepper smiles up at him, hand still resting on Steve's arm, and says 'Tell him I miss him. Everything else can wait until I can yell it myself.'

Thor turns to relay this to Tony, and Natasha slinks over to Pepper's side, boxing Steve out in a polite and businesslike manner. She leans in to murmur something to Pepper, then the ladies nod goodbye to the room and vanish into the hallway.

'Midgard has many formidable women,' Thor sighs. 'And were my heart not claimed by the Beauteous Jane, I would gladly make overtures to either-'

'Stop right there, buddy,' Clint says, shuffling back towards Tony now that Natasha's not here to glare. 'Unless you wanna wake up naked chained upside down in a Russian warehouse.'

Thor looks intrigued, and Steve takes that as his cue. 'Right. I'm going to put in some hours in the gym. Thor, keep me posted about your mother. Clint...' he sighs. 'Keep an eye on Tony.'

He walks out to the strains of Clint's 'Aye aye, Captain,' and makes a beeline for the heavy bag.

****

Steve can't help gaping as he stares up at the fairytale castle at the other end of the honest-to-God RAINBOW bridge.

Tony makes a small sound, and grabs Clint's hand like a lifeline. Clint blinks down at the connexion, a faint pink blooming on his cheeks before he tightens his grip and grins.

'Ready to see the wizard, Tony?' Clint says, having decided that tone of voice can carry most of his interactions with Tony. 'Think we'll get to ride a flying horse?'

'If you so desire,' Thor says, turning to level a bemused frown at Clint. 'Perhaps some such transport can be arranged. I had planned on walking, though.'

Steve steps up before Clint can say anything else. 'Walking is good. We don't want to keep your mother waiting, so if you'd lead the way?'

Thor inclines his head, and strikes off along the shiny bridge.

****

Frigga is unearthly beautiful, but with a warm and welcoming air(motherly, Steve's mind whispers, thinking about soothing hands on his brow when he was feverish, and his own mother's kind eyes and tired smile); nothing and _everything_ like Sarah Rogers. Steve has to pause in the doorway, momentarily overcome.

Tony has no such compunctions, dropping Clint's hand and racing across the hall to hurl himself into Frigga's skirts, cheerful babble sounding even faster and more enthusiastic than when he'd beaten Clint for the fifth time at Mortal Warrior Explosion, or whatever ridiculous game they'd been playing all week.

Frigga's hand drifts down into Tony's hair, stroking in a way that makes Steve's heart ache with homesickness.

Thor charges across the hall, dropping to one knee just shy of Tony, and Steve manages to pull himself together. He grabs Clint by the elbow and marches up to pay his respects.

'Ma'am,' he bows, sweeping the cowl off his head. 'Thank you for agreeing to see us.'

Frigga smiles at each of them, before turning back to Tony, cupping his face to tilt his head back, staring into his eyes. She hums, a tune rising and falling melodically for a few minutes, then releases Tony's face.

'My son,' she turns to Thor, but her hand snakes it way back into Tony's hair, and he leans against her leg with a happy sigh. 'Be so good as to have the guards bring Loki.'

Steve glances at Clint, but his face is a mask. There had been a brief biography in his file, Steve recalls, about an orphanage and juvenile detention. Clint had been too young to remember his mother, and Steve gets the impression that he doesn't know how to react to the feeling Frigga gives off. Horrified, he steps closer to put a hand on Clint's shoulder, but Clint ignores him.

Before Steve can summon the words, two gigantic guards appear, flanking a Loki who does not look like he has been dragged out of a dungeon. Recalling the terrified faces in the bank, the crumbling buildings that are only just starting to look right again, Steve feels his jaw and fists clench.

Loki stops in front of Frigga, sneering and chin raised. 'Have you decided to start a zoo, mother?'

Frigga stares at him, disappointment edging into her face. 'Did you have anything to do with what has befallen here, my son?'

Loki's face twists, and he glances down at Tony. 'Not by my hand.'

'But you recognise the work, brother?' Thor steps forward, and Loki's expression goes through several complicated changes before settling on wistful.

'Why ought I to answer you?' he spreads his hands, and Steve is mildly reassured to see a chain connecting his wrists. 'What is in it for me, as the humans say.'

Thor glowers, but Frigga places a hand on his forearm. 'Nothing but the regained trust of your family, Loki.'

Loki looks torn between laughter and fury. 'Not even the freedom of the palace, mother?'

'No,' Frigga shakes her head. 'Not yet.'

Loki bows his head, sighing. 'It is the work of Amora. She is not yet powerful enough to weave a permanent enchantment of this kind; already it unravels.'

He pinches at empty air and tugs. Tony jerks and glares at him, saying 'Watch it, you-' before dissolving into angry Macedonian. Loki raises his eyebrows at Thor, and turns to stare at Steve and Clint.

'All you need do is wait, mortals,' he spits the last word, like it tastes foul. 'But guard yourselves. Amora will plague you.'

It feels like a genuine warning, and Steve can't help shivering under Loki's icy gaze.

****

'Did she give you a time frame?' is the first thing Natasha says when they get back to the Tower, ambushing them just outside the elevator.

Steve blinks at her, and Natasha cracks a smile. 'I slapped one of Tony's bugs on you before you left. It didn't get all the conversation, but I did catch Loki telling you it wasn't permanent.'

'Oh,' Steve didn't think even Tony's equipment ought to be able to transmit to and from Asgard, but he wasn't exactly tech-savvy. 'He said it should be completely dissolved within a week.'

Natasha nods, clearly thinking about something, then nods again, harder. 'I'll tell Pepper.'

'Um,' Steve can't help actually putting his hand up. 'Do you mind if I do that?'

Natasha blinks up at him, then her face blanks carefully. 'If you'd like.'

'Thank you,' Steve bites at his lip. 'Er. Could you tell me how to call her number?'

'Calling Miss Potts,' Jarvis's voice blasts from the ceiling, and even Natasha jumps.

'Holy fucking shit!' Clint slams back against the wall, pinning Tony behind him before he registers where the voice came from. 'Uh, hey Jarvis.'

Steve's not feeling too steady either, but he manages not to scream _or_ laugh at Clint. 'Jarvis, perhaps if you'd lower the volume?'

'My apologies, Captain,' Jarvis pauses. 'Is there an explanation for why I have conflicting reports from my internal clock and the atomic clock, sir?'

'God damn magic, Jarvis,' Clint replies without heat, and peels himself off Tony, dusting him off before stepping back two paces and turning to have some sort of glare-off with Natasha.

'Miss Potts is on the line, Captain,' Jarvis says after a moment. 'Would you like her on speaker or at a terminal?'

Natasha gives Steve a considering look, and herds everyone out of the hall, shooting an unreadable glare over her shoulder.

Steve sighs. He knows what Natasha's thinking, and Pepper really is a hell of a dame, but what he's really concerned with is being team leader. It's his job to do these things, and for once it's good news. He didn't get to deliver good news too often in the war, so it's something he savours.

'Over the speaker is good, thank you,' he says when Thor's disappeared into the kitchen. 'Miss Potts?'

'Captain?' Pepper says. 'Jarvis is back online, then? Does this mean you've solved our little problem?'

'Not quite,' Steve grins. 'But we've been assured that Iron Man will be back on form by this time next week. He's already slipping in English about five per cent of the time.'

There's silence on the other end, relieved silence before 'I'll be over tomorrow. Thank you for calling me, Captain.'

'Steve,' Steve says. 'Call me Steve.'

'Only if you call me Pepper,' he can hear the grin in her voice, the lighter tone, and it buoys him. 'Thank you, Steve.'

'You're welcome, Pepper.'

Jarvis cuts the call, and Steve heads into the kitchen, pausing in the door to watch his team. This past week has been faintly horrible, and he hadn't realised how hard they'd all been taking it. He watches Tony launch himself off a stool, trying to grab a pop tart Thor is holding over Clint's head, and has to grin.

This is his team.

****

Loki's prediction of a week turned out to be an extremely conservative one. By two o'clock the next afternoon, Tony was speaking almost exclusively in English, though his memories were returning more slowly.

'Dude,' he was saying to Clint, draping himself over the back of the couch to loop an arm around Clint's throat. 'Do we need to give you remedial training in PS3?'

'Whaddaya think,' Clint says to Natasha. 'Fourteen years old?'

Natasha shrugs. 'He's never been terribly mature, this could be thirty for all we know.'

Tony groans, and flops upside down onto the couch. Clint pokes him. 'Dude,' he says sarcastically. 'Your brain might be in idiot adolescent mode, but your body's still the wrong side of forty to be flopping around like that.'

Tony doesn't move, and Steve takes the three steps from the doorway to the couch to haul him upright. 'Come on, Tony,' he ignores the bug-eyed stare Tony gives his chest. 'Go get changed. Pepper's going to be over later, and I think actual clothes might be an idea.'

Natasha and Clint laugh, and Clint yells 'Pretty sure she's seen him in worse. If not much.'

Tony bristles, shooting a strangely betrayed look at the back of Clint's head. 'Who's this chick, anyway? Why do I care if I look any good?'

Steve has to suppress the urge to cuff Tony around the ears for using disrespectful language. He's not _actually_ a teenager, and he isn't really responsible for him in that way.

'That _chick_ ,' he settles for saying sharply. 'Is your girlfriend, the CEO of your company and a very classy lady.'

'Oh,' Tony looks confused for a moment, glancing at Clint again. 'Seriously? CEO? So what happened to Obie?'

Natasha and Clint freeze, but the name doesn't mean anything to Steve. He glances over, but the two of them avoid his eyes. He looks back at Tony, only to find a dawning horror on Tony's face.

'OK, yeah,' Tony steps back, huffing a strangled laugh. 'I remember now.'

Steve resolves to pin Clint down later and get the story out of him, but for now 'Go get dressed, Tony.'

Tony plucks at his sleep pants, runs a hand up his belly to rub at the arc reactor. 'Sure.'

He turns and runs out of the room.

Steve heaves a sigh, and jumps over the back of the couch to land next to Clint. Clint slants a glance over at him and drops the controller.

'So, Obadiah Stane,' Clint says. 'You aren't gonna like this.'

Steve really, really doesn't.

****

By the time Pepper turns up at seven, Tony's got what seem to be all his memories back. She sticks her head into the kitchen to say hello, then Tony drags her down to his lab.

Clint stares after them for a long time, face blank, until Bruce zaps himself on the microwave (they really should've checked out what Tony'd done to it, but what with one thing and another...), and Hulks-out, smashing the breakfast bar straight through the floor.

He must be getting more used to the Avengers, though, because aside from that there's no property damage. Hulk just wanders down to the entertainment centre and gets Jarvis to turn on one of the cartoons.

'Jesus Fucking Christ,' Clint mutters.

Steve can't help but concur.

****

'Sooo...' Tony says as he leans against the door frame. 'I guess thank yous are in order all 'round?'

Steve can't help but grin at him. He'd never thought he'd miss the brash, cocky Tony, but he'd take Tony at his worst and most obnoxious over the last week. 'Back with us, then?'

Tony grins but it looks a little strained. 'Natalie, Natasha, Beryl, whatever you're going by this week-'

Natasha cuts him off with something sharp and snappy in Macedonian. Tony blinks, actually jerking back, before he bends double laughing.

'Oh, holy shit,' he gasps, clutching his side like he thinks it'll burst. 'I just... you... my mother woulda _loved_ you.'

Natasha twitches, before smiling. It's a much shyer, uncertain and _real_ looking smile than any Steve's seen her give to date. It suits her.

Natasha murmurs something else in Macedonian, and Steve coughs pointedly. 'In a language we can _all_ understand, maybe? Unless you're making time,' he makes himself say, hoping against hope that he'll manage to embarrass _them_ for a change. 'In which case, leave it until you're off duty.'

Instead of blushes, he just gets twin smirks. Of _course_. Steve really isn't surprised.

'Now I can get Fury to utilise you on reconnaissance,' Natasha lowers her eyelids, smirking across the room at Tony. 'You can relay information in a language few will understand. Or receive,' she shrugs. 'You can start pulling your weight.'

They're living on Tony's dime, Steve thinks; eating his food and letting him give them unbelievable science-fiction toys to play with, but all Tony does is grin in response and say something filthy-sounding. Steve would put 'learn Macedonian' on his growing To Do list, if he wasn't bone-deep certain he does not _ever_ want to know what those two say to each other in private. He's thinking that Tony and Natasha are just congenitally incapable of saying nice things to each other.

Bruce, freshly de-Hulked as of ten minutes ago, strides over to clasp Tony in a fierce hug, muttering something about the Other Guy sending his regards. Tony hugs back with unexpected focus, burying his face in Bruce's shoulder for a few breaths.

Steve's getting the impression that maybe not everything has slotted back into place for Tony like it should've.

Clint hasn't moved from his perch on top of the range hood; hasn't moved period since Tony reappeared. Tony smiles up at him, eyebrows raised, then scowls at the mess the Hulk made.

'Bru-u-uce,' he whines, aiming a sloppy punch at Bruce's shoulder. 'Does the other guy have any idea how difficult it is to get Italian marble that colour? Even _I_ winced at the price!'

'Sorry, Tony,' Bruce's mouth twists up ruefully. 'Maybe look at stainless steel for kitchens the Other Guy is going to frequent?'

Tony gets a glint in his eye, and he cackles at that. 'No!' he grins. 'We're going to find out the least destructive way for Hulk to manifest, and we're starting tomorrow!'

Steve, Bruce and Natasha all take a step forward, unified in their horrified disapproval of Tony's lunatic plan, but Tony just dances out of reach, shouting ' _FOR SCIENCE!_ ' as he raises a triumphant finger to the ceiling.

Steve glances at Clint, who _still_ hasn't moved, staring frankly creepily at Tony's back. He purses his lips, thinking for a moment, then announces 'Thor was setting up the grill by the roof pool. Anyone else getting worried by the lack of news?'

Bruce pauses, then dashes for the stairs. Natasha shoots Steve a knowing look and follows, leaving Steve to catch Tony by the elbow and redirect him to the wrecked bench.

'We can handle it,' he murmurs over Tony's half-hearted protests. 'I think you need to talk to Clint.'

Tony's mouth falls open as he stares up at Clint's unmoving form, and Steve slides out of the room.

Thor has probably (certainly) caused at least one call-out of the emergency services by now. If not for the grill, for causing heart failure in at least two of the Tower's binocular-wielding neighbours with his Naked Thursday rule.

Steve knows he shouldn't, but he grins at the thought.

****

Steve's woken up by Jarvis a week later.

'I have Miss Potts on the line,' the AI says once Steve has blinked hard several times. 'Shall I put her through?'

'Of course,' Steve sits up. Even though he _knows_ Pepper can't see him, he still feels bound by some rules of propriety. It makes him feel bad enough that he doesn't bother to find a shirt.

'Steve,' Pepper's voice cuts through his (yes, he realises) ridiculous train of thought. 'I just wanted to thank you again.'

'Any time, Pepper,' he grins. 'But really, all we did was wait.'

'Maybe,' Pepper laughs, then sighs. 'I wanted to call to say goodbye for a while.'

'What?' Steve gapes at the ceiling. 'Where're you going?'

Pepper's silent for a moment, then Steve hears her curse softly. 'Of course he didn't say anything. Look, Steve, Tony and I are... well, we're taking a break from each other for a while. So I'll be heading to the West Coast to run Stark Industries while Tony sticks around with the Avengers.'

'Oh,' Steve bites at his thumbnail. He's torn, wanting Pepper happy with Tony, but equally worried about how attached Clint has gotten recently. It doesn't seem like there's any right solution, though. If pushed, he'd say Pepper had right of first claim, but it isn't really his business and romance doesn't work by dibs.

'It's just hard,' Pepper sighs. 'Waiting around for the phone call. We both need some space...'

Steve can understand that; he'd never liked Peggy charging off into battle, though he understood and supported her decision to do so. He doesn't know if he'd have been able to handle it if he hadn't been there to protect her when she did, though. It must be _really_ hard to be Pepper Potts: Iron Man's Girlfriend.

Pepper sighs again. 'Will you look out for him?'

'Of course,' Steve would anyway. 'Stay in touch, though? If nothing else, you've been handling him the longest, and we might need some pointers.'

Pepper laughs. 'Tony wrangling is my speciality. All right, my expert knowledge is available for you between the hours of seven a.m and ten p.m my local time.'

She ends the call with a lighter laugh, and Steve is happy he reassured her, even if he's not quite sure how.

Now if only he knew what to do about Clint...

****

Clint looks like he's considering leaping out the window, regardless of it being a hundred stories up, when Steve corners him in the kitchen. After a moment, he just slumps against the sill.

'Clint...' he starts, but Clint holds a hand up.

'I know, Cap,' he sounds resigned. 'It's not a thing, OK? I've backed off, he's back to being a lab troll, and it'll all be sunshine and puppies and teamwork next time we get called out.'

Steve's not sure what to say to that, so he just puts a hopefully comforting hand on Clint's shoulder. 'If you ever need to talk...'

Clint blinks up at him, surprise written large across his face. 'Sure, Cap.'

****

Heeding Loki's warning, Steve has the Avengers on alert, sending out requests for information to SHIELD and their various contacts. As wide-ranging as SHIELD seems to be, apparently magic just isn't something that many people know anything about. Tony's apparently sulking over having 'anti-science bullshit' be so effective.

Bruce mentions that there's some Earth-friendly sorcerer supposedly living in New York, and Natasha takes a week to hunt him down.

She limps in a few days later, muttering angrily in what is probably Russian.

'He says he'll keep an eye out,' she says when Steve finds her the first aid kit. 'But that we 'shouldn't worry our pretty little heads',' she spits the quote, angrier than Steve's seen her before.

'Well,' he wraps her ankle, kneeling in the hall since she refuses to sit down. 'He'd know, right?'

Natasha scoffs, but settles. 'He was the most arrogant man I have _ever_ had the misfortune to encounter. Clint can go next time; he likes that type.'

Steve sends a reproving glance up at her, but she's staring at the ceiling. He sighs, and sits back on his heels. 'Nothing we can do about it now, anyway. Get some rest.'

Natasha shoots him a small smile, nodding her thanks, and heads to her room. Steve gets to his feet, and startles when Tony's voice pipes up from the kitchen.

'You want some coffee, fearless leader?'

'Tony,' he steps into the dark kitchen, flicking on the light to reveal Tony sitting on the newly-rebuilt stainless-steel-this-time breakfast bar, legs crossed Indian-style and hugging the entire pot of coffee to his chest. 'Why're you... no, never mind.'

He pads across the room, fetching two cups and prying the pot out of Tony's arms. 'It's five in the morning, Tony. What're you doing lurking in the kitchen with the lights off?'

Tony takes one of the cups ('unpolluted with _diluting agents_ , thank you'), and cradles it to his chest. Steve adds a little milk to his own, and hops up to sit beside Tony.

'Why didn't you tell us about Pepper?' he asks, when the silence has stretched to breaking point.

Tony blows a breath up, ruffling his own bangs. 'It's no big deal,' he lifts his cup, but doesn't take a sip. 'People get together, people break up. We weren't _married_ , Cap.'

Steve settles a hand between Tony's shoulder blades. 'Did you want to be?'

Tony flinches, but eases back into the contact after a moment. 'Yes. No. No, I just... I think maybe we'd worn too far into the grooves before, you know?'

Steve really doesn't, and it must show on his face, because Tony chuckles.

'She was my Assistant for twelve years before we got together,' there's a quiet little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'And maybe if I'd got my head outta my ass ten years ago...' he trails off, smile turning bitter. 'No. Not even then. But we'd gotten too used to our roles as boss and Tony-the-toddler-in-a-man-suit.'

Steve makes a soothing noise, one he can remember his mother making when he'd just needed to make noise at someone about the unfairness of the world, and Tony blinks at him.

'Wow, uh,' he tilts his head. 'You OK? That was a little... maternal-sounding, which aha, is weird.'

Steve rolls his eyes. 'So you think you and Pepper-'

'I _know_ me and Pepper,' Tony corrects. 'Are not really long-term romance material. It was fun while it lasted, but it's just not what she or I need from each other. I'm not broken-hearted, Steve. I just needed a few weeks to get settled. I'll be back on playboy form by the end of the month, scouts honour.'

There's the faintest scraping sound from above the door, and Steve turns to look at the vent. 'if you're sure, Tony,' he says, staring at Clint's guilty eyes and raising his eyebrows at him. 'I'll head off. Leave you _ALONE_.'

Tony makes a confused noise, but Steve strides out of the room before he can say anything, flattening himself against the wall beside the door to listen.

'Bugfuck crazy capsicle,' Tony mutters, then screams when the vent covering crashes against the floor, covering the sound of Clint leaping out. 'Jesus Christ, you maniac! It shouldn't be possible to have a heart attack with the reactor, but... what're you-?'

Steve risks peeking around the door frame after a few seconds of silence, and there's Clint, pinning Tony against the breakfast bar and trying to climb inside him. It looks a little pornographic for a first kiss, but Steve knows neither of them are exactly shy retiring flowers, and Tony is not protesting in the slightest...

OK, pants coming off, that's Steve's cue to flee.

He can't help grinning as he heads to the gym, though. Whatever the world throws at them, the Avengers can and will handle it.

He's so very proud to be on this team.


	2. S-S-S-S-SEXTRA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless smutty sextra (hey, alliteration!), and the rating for this part is 'Explicit'

No sooner had Steve wandered out, (the great big weirdo, what the hell was that?) than Tony was jerking up and away from the air vent clattering on the floor and Clint drooping out of _fucking nowhere_.

Tony clasped the hand that had shot up, reflexively moving to repulsor-blast the threat, to his chest and glared.

'Jesus Christ, you maniac!' he shouted. 'It shouldn't be possible to have a heart attack with the reactor, but... what're you-?'

He trailed off as Clint moved, suddenly right _there_ , all intense stare and heavy breathing. Tony opened his mouth to ask whether he was all right, and Clint was _on_ him, a whole lot of repressed passion and busy hands getting up in Tony's business.

Well, OK then. Tony relaxed into the kiss, tilting his head and sliding a thigh between Clint's and hello! He pulled back, just far enough to have room to speak.

'Yeah? He rasped, studying Clint's face. Clint grinned back at him and dived forward again.

Tony grunted as the small of his back hit the edge of the bench, sliding his hands over Clint's belt and undoing the buckle as Clint nipped at his jaw. He wrenched Clint's pants open, shoving at them until they gave him room to move, and he reached into the boxers.

'Yeah, baby,' he whispered as he pumped Clint, slipping his other hand up to trace circles around Clint's nipples. 'Like that? 'Course you do, lemme-'

Clint actually growled, and Tony was so delighted at that that he couldn't put up any resistance as Clint pinned him over the bench. Tony tested his range of motion, and Clint's stubble scraped along the side of his face.

'All mouth, you are,' Clint managed, grinning. 'What's it take to shut you up?'

'Well, we can cross 'not speaking English' off the list,' Tony twisted to get his teeth into Clint's earlobe. 'Got any other ideas for me, Agent Barton?'

Clint groaned, thrusting against Tony for a few blissfully unsatisfying moments.

Tony swung a leg up, hauling Clint closer and setting his teeth into Clint's lower lip before pulling away slowly. 'Got a better use for my mouth? You wanna think about it for a while, get back to me?'

He grinned, wide and cocky when Clint pulled off him, shoving at Tony's shoulders and yanking at his own boxers.

'Dammit, Stark,' Clint gasped when Tony sank to his knees, inching forward and smirking up. 'Suck me already.'

Tony shot Clint's hard-on a mock confused look, leaning in close to smell it. 'I don't know-'

Clint's hand slid into Tony's hair, pulling him forward as he lined his cock up with Tony's mouth. Tony resisted just long enough to get Clint glaring down at him, then opened his mouth and swallowed.

'Oh jesus,' Clint gasped, eyes fluttering shut. 'Fuck, Tony...'

Tony slid off, pushing at Clint's legs until he stumbled back into a chair and sat down, then slid his mouth back onto Clint. He didn't actually mind a little hair pulling, so he grabbed Clint's hand and set it on his head, humming happily as Clint's fingers threaded through his hair.

He worked Clint until his jaw started to ache, pressing the heel of his hand into his own erection. He slipped back, sucking on the head, flicking his tongue against the slit until he felt Clint tense up, hands urging him forward again.

'Fucking, yeah...' Clint gasped, thrusting chokingly forward. Tony just relaxed as best he could, swallowing as fast as he could until it dribbled out his mouth and down his chin.

Clint collapsed back, incoherent for the moment and pulling at Tony's shoulder to drag him up. Tony went, grinning and plastering himself against Clint, ducking down for a long, messy kiss.

'OK,' Clint gasped, sucking a mark into the corner of Tony's jaw and heaving him around so their positions were reversed. 'My turn.'

Tony spread his legs, letting Clint pull his pyjama pants down to his ankles and slinging one leg over Clint's shoulder. Clint ran a hand up Tony's thigh, dipping his fingers behind Tony's balls.

'Yeah?' he said, eyebrows up.

Tony kicked him in the back with his heel. 'If you're good. Get to work, Barton.'

Clint licked his lips and slid straight to deep throat. Tony yelled, shoving his fist in his mouth and hoping Cap would either ignore the sound or respect the bro code and stay away. He didn't even want to _think_ about Natasha coming in; ooh, no, don't think about that...

Clint's finger slipping into his ass cut that disturbing train of thought off, thankfully, and Tony hitched his other leg up to give Clint room to move.

Clint made a wrecked noise in the back of his throat that reverbrated all the way up Tony's spine, and slid a second finger in, spit-slicked and curling for... oh yeah.

Tony didn't even bother to try and hold out, he just let the orgasm wash over him, barely aware of Clint pulling off until he looked down to see Clint dripping in his come. He groaned, easing his legs back to the ground as Clint's fingers slipped free.

'Hot as that is,' he licked a stripe off Clint's cheek, then yawned into a kiss. 'I'm gonna need a nap and an hour or two before round two.'

Clint hitched Tony's pant back up, tucked himself away, and helped Tony to his feet. 'Fine by me,' he slid his hands back down under Tony's pants. 'Your place or mine?'

'It's _all_ my place,' Tony sniffed, pressing his lips against Clint's again. 'And my room's the best. You should see my shower.'

'Mmm,' Clint pulled him towards the door. 'Yes please.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, so I might have forgotten how I'd promised the fluffy extra until Daphne reminded me because I spend my life in a state of hilarifail. Sorry to have kept you waiting. So this is the morning after the sextra, and I hope it's fluffy enough. (I don't read too much fluff, so this is a somewhat amateur stab at the genre)

Clint rolls over, bleary-eyed and squinting in the morning light when the bed dips strangely. He's not used to other people in his room anymore, and it takes him a moment to work out why he hadn't woken on high alert when whoever it is opened the door.

Oh, yeah.

He can just make out Tony limned by really bright sunlight, and Clint doesn't care what Tony thinks of him. He's going back to sleep until midday. He's earned his sleep, dammit.

'Did I wear you out that thoroughly?' Tony laughs, draping himself along Clint's back. 'You had a lot more energy four hours ago.'

Clint sort of humps his face along the pillow until he's got enough room to grump 'You used it all up.'

He can feel Tony chuckling, soundless but shaking Clint and the bed. 'I suppose we'll have to do something to refuel you, then.'

Tony brushes a kiss against the back of Clint's neck, and disappears out the door. Clint waits for a moment, but Tony stays gone, so he goes back to sleep.

****

The angle of the light has changed quite a bit when the bed dips again.

'Fuel to get you upright,' Tony says.

Clint rolls over to find Tony grinning and holding out a tray. When he sits up to investigate, he finds a stack of pretty good looking pancakes, slathered in syrup, and an extra large mug of coffee.

'Did you cook me breakfast?' Clint asks, wondering whether he's somehow slipped into an alternate universe. Tony Stark cooking?

Tony sets the tray down next to Clint and crawls forward to pin him against the headboard. Clint drags his hands up Tony's back to his shoulders and shoves him back.

'I've got pancakes to eat,' he tells Tony's pout, and drags the tray into his lap. 'You called out to IHOP, didn't you?'

Tony glares as Clint shovels a full half of the top pancake into his mouth. 'Why would it take me two hours to order breakfast?'

Clint blinks, swallowing the pretty delicious mouthful. 'Why did it take you two hours to _make _pancakes? _Did _it take two hours?'____

Tony gets a shifty look, and steals Clint's coffee to hide his face. That's fine, though. If Tony made the coffee, it probably resembles Texas crude oil more than anything actually digestible by normal humans.

Clint pokes at Tony's knee with his foot, grins, and devotes his attention to the pancakes. They weren't anything objectively special, but the fact that Tony had spent two hours on them for _Clint _...__

Clint couldn't help the grin. 'So, did you have any plans for today?'

Tony drains the last of the coffee, and Clint winces at the thought of that steaming cup being swallowed like a pint of water. Tony must have an asbestos-lined throat.

'I thought we could work off some of those carbs you've just eaten,' Tony sets the empty cup on the bedside table, and picks up the tray with its now-empty plate to put it on the floor. 'Then maybe some lunch...'

'Followed by another workout?' Clint rolls Tony onto his back and starts tugging at his shirt. 'Are you calling me fat?'

'You going to give me a show to prove me wrong if I do?' Tony's hair, when the shirt slips free, is sticking up in all directions. 'I can get Jarvis to play some Hot Chocolate-'

Laughing, Clint swallows Tony's sass, running his hands across Tony's chest. The arc reactor was an intriguing chilly contrast, so Clint ducks his head to trace the scarred edge with his lips.

'So this is going to be a thing, right?' Tony asks, hands folded behind his head and a really good attempt at _Unconcerned _on his face, but when Clint looks up there's something a little vulnerable in his eyes.__

Instead of joking, instead of evading and dragging up walls like he almost does by reflex, Clint settles his knees either side of Tony's waist and frames the arc reacor with his hands. He stares down at Tony, trying to give himself time to find the right words.

He wants to say something brilliant; something memorable and perfect and witty, but words have never been his strong suit.

'Yes,' is all he says, and he leans down to show Tony how much he means it.


End file.
